


Vivisection of Progression

by StellarRequiem



Series: Is It Was It Love [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Betrayal, Blood and Gore, Canon, Death, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Loss, Loss of Control, M/M, Manipulation, Other, Partner Betrayal, Unhealthy Relationships, Yes Felix dies, complicated relationship, i guess deathfic?, lolix, open to interpretation lolix, s13x19, severing codependency, thoughts upon dying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-18 22:32:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4722794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarRequiem/pseuds/StellarRequiem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short interpretation of the moments leading up to Felix's fall from the tower, and the shift in his relationship with Locus in that moment. Driven by the question of "Was it love, Felix?"</p><p>Limited second person directed at Felix. Sequel to "Progression of Vivisection," can be read as standalone if that's really what floats your boat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vivisection of Progression

Is it love, Felix, as you fall heavenward? Cloud above and cloud below, sky before your eyes and at your back taking from you, suffocated, a startled desperate shout that fades from you as the initial adrenaline of reaction fades to numb. To cold. To an icing over of the bloodwet edges of the cavern of chest left open under your dented armor, above your aching heart.

Blood, weeping from the place in you where he once was, paints a gash across the sky you cut through; it paints your effigy in a bright burst upon the ground.

Was it love, Felix, as he left you? As he cast down his gun, cutting the cords between you with its fall, severing the bond, leaving loose ends and raw edges and broken fibers once connected to you both trailing, lost, strewn across the ground that now separated you. On the floor between where you kneeled and the place from which he looked down on you.

You felt his hands on the tearslick laughtorn tired muscles of your face, even from that distance. A silent kind of begging that you stop. That you end. That you surrender as was always his nature. He begged you while the heartstrings you once tied together between your blade-and-trigger-calloused fingertips unraveled, splayed out across the ground like corpses after battle. Forming bloody _us_ shaped silhouettes as you screamed at him in silence. _I am the reason that you are._

Was it love, Felix, as you offered him your tongue? As you used its wetpink length to cut him? You chewed and bit at brain tissue cool-hot and hard to swallow. You choked, as you searched for his mouth his soul his doubt for any route still open to his half-a-shadow of a heart; his mind become a hostile electricity. The effort, vain and painful, left you gagging on gray matter ribbons you couldn’t pull from between your teeth.

Was it love, Felix, As you strove for pressure points you never shared in one last effort to consume him? He was smooth and tart against the back of your throat. Slid through your being with the taste of blood, of sticky copper as you offered him a sort of healing. He was aware that he was bleeding.

He had let it cease to matter.

Was it love, Felix, when you realized?  You felt his reply before it hit you, sung to the tune of punched-lung rattle, and you knew he didn’t care that he’d exsanguinate without you.

Was it love, Felix, as you made room and opportunity for the sharpened-pearl catching of his teeth inside your brain, your soul, your skin? He pulled you into striptorn ribbons, sliced along your still still-whole edges and left you weary ragged spinning with the only weapons left to you hot against open-wound barred muscle that became, as he bled from you, the only piece of yourself remaining.

Was it love, Felix, as you stood stockstill-unable to save yourself to think to breathe to _think_? Stricken by the all-consuming bloodbath of being in your head without his shadow. Without the weight of him dragging behind you. In front of you. Just within reach to your right.

The airless weightless of aloneness cut you adrift, left only yourself to swallow. Brain and heart and heartstring broken muscle fibers, you consumed the remnants of what you were. Of what he made you when you took him.

Was it love, Felix, as in the vacuum of his absence, you remembered too late to save yourself that you were afraid to die alone?


End file.
